


Our Fair Share of Misery

by thefrenchmistake



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-24 22:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22225495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefrenchmistake/pseuds/thefrenchmistake
Summary: Jordan Baker was, and always had been, a frightening woman. But there, through her entire act, he could see the cracks beyond the mask, the thorny pain left by the whole disaster that this summer had been. She had been, like him, a collateral damage.
Relationships: Daisy Buchanan/Jay Gatsby, Jordan Baker/Nick Carraway, Nick Carraway & Jay Gatsby
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	Our Fair Share of Misery

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there,   
> Here is something I wrote a long time ago on the aftermath of Gatsby's death, if Jordan and Nick met up after years.   
> Enjoy !

“I understand you’ve found a husband ?”

She raised her chin a little higher, a defensive mechanism he had noticed a handful of times, when there were still stories about love and secret affaires between the Great Gatsby and the Golden Girl.

None of it was left anymore though. Nothing but bitterness.

“Who told you so ?”

“I’ve read it in the papers, I believe.”

He tried to keep his voice as blank as he could, as if her answer did not matter a bit; nothing could be less true.

“The newspapers should take care of their own damn business.”

“Does it mean they are wrong, though ?”

She squinted, pulled a cigarette from her purse with a well practiced gesture that suggested she hadn’t quit since the last time he saw her. She brought the tip between her carmin lips, before lighting it up with a casual flick of her fingers.

After taking a breath of toxic smoke, she said very flatly:

“What does it matter to you ?”

Jordan Baker was, and always had been, a frightening woman. But there, through her entire act, he could see the cracks beyond the mask, the thorny pain left by the whole disaster that this summer had been. She had been, like him, a collateral damage. She had just became more cynical than ever, her few beliefs fading away at the betrayal of those she considered her closest friends, the only people she had allowed herself to trust.

“Curiosity, I guess.”

She tensed, smoke surrounding her pale face, her dark eyes piercing through the mist, giving her a mystical aspect.

She looked like the Jordan Baker he had so often dreamed of, and he caught himself wishing she was different, wishing his memory did not compel her to a ghost from his past.

Her lips closed around the cigarette once more, and he was absolutely dumbstruck to notice a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth.

With a voice much softer, almost tender, she whispered:

“Yes… I guess you were always too curious, weren’t you ? We both were. Too young, too bold, too spontaneous. Stupid and naive, admiring the promises of a future that seemed so clear, welcoming it with open arms. But it slipped right though our fingers, didn’t it ? What a naive little girl I was…”

“I wasn’t any better.”

Her tirade had surprised him, but it made his heart ache that she opened up to him. Her mouth stretched, this time, in a genuine smile.

“You’re right. But at least we were a little bit happier. And hopeful, I suppose.”

“I thought you would look back at us and despise what you saw.”

“Oddly enough, I’ve come to envy them. You see, Nick, when you grow up cynical, you stay cynical your whole life. It does not mean you can’t wish for good to happen to you. You just know better. So yes, I envy the young Jordan Baker, because the present one knows she will be broken soon whereas some years ago, I would believe I’d go through life like a bird in the sky.”

“Have you heard from Daisy and Tom ?”

She glanced down, let the cigarette drop into the ashtray.

“Daisy called me after… After the drama,” she said, her voice harder than it should’ve been. “I went back to Louisville. But soon after, I realized I couldn’t bear the sight of Daisy’s house, I couldn’t really… look at the past without having the capacity to reach it. She called the day before I left.”

“What did she want ?” He asked, blood boiling as he tried to temper his voice. Her eyes darkened, cold as steel, and she said with a rage that shook him at his core:

“She told me about her new life. How amazing it was in New Orleans. She never apologized. Not once. And I just stood there, the phone hanging in my hand, listening to her babbling with the force of memories ripping through me.”

“She didn’t speak of him ?”

“No. She didn’t mention his name. She never said a thing about New York. She asked me about you though.”

“Yeah ?”

“She said she was awfully sorry she hadn’t heard from you.”

“Oh, I’m sur she has. It just wasn’t convenient for her to answer and talk about the wrongs she did.”

“I told her I would not mind her never calling again.”

He was amazed by the serenity that -poured- from her voice, the peace in her features.

“ _Oh, Jordan, you wound me_ , she said. I think she really was hurt. Somehow, she had just understood the true nature of her husband, and that Tom would never change, not for her, not for anyone. And her only friend wouldn’t see her again. I suppose she was disturbed.”

She sighed, put her hands in her lap, blinking a few times before looking at the darkness of the street, backing out of the memory.

“ _Goodbye_ , I just answered. And, just like that, twenty years of friendship disappeared in a single word. She just wanted to forget what I couldn’t bring myself to let go of. She just threw it into oblivion while still embodying everything that happened. I hung up on her, and in the morning, I was flying to France. I travelled a lot, trying to escape the toxic atmosphere of America. I competed, I won. It felt resourcing.”

“When did you come back ?”

“A couple of months ago.”

She turned her gaze on him again, and he felt insignificant yet young again; he became the man who went to a party, danced, drank, and fell in love.

“I realized I had missed the country, really.”

“I didn’t.” She raised a brow, taking a sip of her wine gracefully.

“I… I was disgusted by all this. The lies, the hatred, the toxicity of the Buchanan… I left to cure myself.”

“Did you ?”

“What ?”

“Did you cure yourself ?”

He sighed deeply, his fingers drumming against the table.

“I like to believe I did, yes. But do you really think one can just… wipe off everything that went wrong ? Memories are not a disease you cure.”

“Maybe not,” she shrugged, “But we sure as hell can try.”

He watched her then, the way her dark hair moved a bit each time she tilted her head, the way her eyes widened a little when she blinked, her bracelets going up her arm when she moved her wrist to raise her glass in order to drink. Everything about her was made with an aesthetic complexity yet a graceful simplicity that left him breathless. After all these years, she was still the most stunning woman he had ever met.

“I haven’t found a husband, Nick,” she said boldly.

“Gatsby would’ve been proud of your independence”, he smiled.

At his grand surprise, she laughed, a laughter a little broken around the edges, as if made of glass that could shatter at any given moment.

“Yes, he would’ve. But he was too polite to say it to me. I’ve always known what he thought, though. I guess he was better than all of us.”

Nick nodded, looked at her with a certain fascination he thought he had lost a long time ago.

“You know, I thank God every day for his death.”

She seemed taken aback by that, but he didn’t perceive any judgement when she asked:

“What do you mean ?”

“I thank God he didn’t live long enough to experience her betrayal. He didn’t have to see her leaving. He didn’t have to lose her once more. And Daisy didn’t get to spoil him, to break him. He died as he lived. As the Great Gatsby I knew.”

She remained silent for a while, her long fingers slightly touching the diamond necklace that fell on her cleavage stylistically.

“I guess he is eternal now. The myth of the man beyond the Golden mask. He’ll stay the Great Gatsby forever.”

“Yeah.”

Her eyes were intense on him, far more than he remembered. But everything about her was more intense in person, more concentred, than in his mind. Oh, how he had dreamed about her. How he had hoped to see her again, and feared it nonetheless.

Spontaneously, he placed his hand on hers. Her skin wasn’t cold, as he thought, but warm. Warm as the summer days they had spent together so many years ago. Her skin appeared even paler under his own.

“How are you ?” He asked softly.

“Vague question, Nick”, she teased. “It doesn’t sound like you.”

“What can I say ? I realized I needed to change.”

He meant a lot more than he said out loud, and she knew it.

“I suppose I’m okay. I must be, right ? It’s been so long.”

“You’ve held it in for too long. You’ve kept all of it locked up.”

“And you didn’t ?”

“For a while, yes. It gnawed at me. But like I told you, I cured myself.”

“How ?”

“I wrote a book.”

Her smile reappeared, wider than her usual smirk, and it reminded him so much of the wild parties they danced to.

“You did ?”

“Yes. It helped a lot.”

“What is it about ?”

“Us.”

She frowned.

“There is not much to tell.”

“About New York, I mean. Gatsby.”

“What an interesting book it must be then.”

“I can say that I am satisfied. Not enough to publish it but…”

“Why not ?” She asked, almost indignant, and he felt a surge of fondness towards her. “You should. I know you wanted to be a writer, Daisy told me. Tom used to mock you for it.” She ended, leaning back in her chair.

“I’m sure he did.”

“He was so stupid. This imbecile couldn’t even form a correct sentence that wasn’t about him. He always tried to seem smarter that he really was. Anyway, you wanted to be a writer. It may be your chance. Cease it.”

“I should have.”

“What was that ?”

“I should have taken the chance with you.”

She looked surprised for a moment, and a blink later her face was carefully blank, although he knew it wasn’t a defense; she just wanted to see where this was going before revealing too much.

“You should’ve indeed.”

“Yes. I often think about it.”

“Well, let’s be clear here; I would’ve decided.”

He laughed then, bright and surprised, and he could not remember how long it had been since laughing felt so spontaneous and not guilty.

“I wouldn’t have expected anything else.”

“You see ? Don’t make the same mistake twice. Publish.”

“Maybe.”

“Do you talk about me in it ?” She asked, eyes wide and intrigued.

“Yes, I do.”

“I’m sure you perfectly captured me,” she smirked.

“Well, I tried to be as honest as I could.”

“I’m looking forward to the publishing. I’ll buy it as soon as it comes out”

“What if I brought it to you ?”

Her carmine mouth stretched even wider, making her whole face light up unexpectedly. He was not ready for so much beauty so close.

“I would like that very much.”

He nodded, his heart swelling in his chest.

“Then it’s done. I’ll publish it and bring it to you.”

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

“I won’t.”

He was shocked by her calm, by the way she somehow seemed more carefree, even after all of this.

“I missed you”, he said boldly.

“I missed you as well,” she admitted.

“Do you think she does ?”

Jordan did not answer right away, but when she did, her voice was cold.

“I don’t know for sure, but she cannot escape her past, not matter how hard she tries. I believe she misses being cared for, being loved. It’s not like Tom can give her that. But I am certain she does not regret what she did. I’m sure she did not stop to think twice about it and blame herself. She can’t allow to think that, otherwise her whole world would fall apart.”

“You really hate her so much ?”

Jordan sighed deeply, but all traces of rage were gone.

“I don’t. I pity her, sometimes. I am disappointed for sure. She married a moron while she loved another man, a good one. I’m disappointed she didn’t have the courage to fight for what she wanted. I feel sick when I think about their unhealthy marriage. It’s obsession intermingled with hatred, mistrust, toxic bitterness and wild fear of loneliness.”

He didn’t know what to say then, because she had perfectly described the sorry state of their relationship. They were a disgusting paire, but a paire nonetheless.

“I know what you mean.”

“What is shameful is that they’re both unhappy together.”

“Let them be.”

Her eyes were shinning in the dark, a fallen angel. He felt the need to kiss her.

“We should head out”, she said, and his heart beat faster.

He payed for the dinner, and they stopped a cab on the street. When they got into the car, her hand was warm on his, and the fur around her neck made her seem aristocratic.

The cab was identical to the one of that hot summer, where he had kissed her the first time.

He was dying to do it again. She smiled, as though she could read his mind. Maybe she could. He wore his heart on his sleeve, he had always known that. And she was there, smiling at him, radiant in the darkness of the small space, beautiful, the past and a possibility of a future dancing on her upper lip.

So he leaned in, kissed her smiling mouth without thinking further. And she kissed him back, with the familiarity yet the craving of a lost lover.

It seemed Gatsby might have been right: one could relieve the past if one fought enough for it.


End file.
